


Maid to Serve

by ElloMenoP



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Blowjobs, M/M, cross dressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 04:13:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9961364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElloMenoP/pseuds/ElloMenoP
Summary: Scout makes a mess and it’s his job to clean it up





	

A loud pop exploded through the tiny camper van, followed by a gentle rustling noise, and finally an “Aw crap.”

Scout knelt down to the floor, the potato chips crunching underneath his knees. He began to pick up the greasy crumbs, many of which stuck to the cheap carpet fibers.

“Are you kidding me?” Sniper asked.

“I know, I know, I’m cleanin’ it up.” 

“No, no, are you really serious right now?” There was a hint of play in Sniper’s voice, enough to make Scout turn around and face the Australian. 

He gave a goofy smile, “I’m cleanin’ it up!”

“Not like that, you aren’t.” Sniper nodded at the mess.

“I’ll get the vacuum cleaner, calm down. Jeez, for a guy that stores his piss in his kitchen cabinets you’re uptight about a shitty rug.”

Sniper crossed the small space to grab Scout, his boots crunching over the potato chips and adding to the mess. He pressed his front against Scout’s backside, his long arms wrapping around the runner’s slender waist. He ground his cheek along Scout’s bare neck and grumbled, “Not cleanin' like that.”

Scout melted into the hold, eager for more. “Oh yeah? Want me to do it naked?”

As if a switch had been flipped, Sniper pushed Scout away, tone devoid of lust. “No, you little idiot, I’m not gonna let you get all dirty.”

He crossed the camper to a small closet just by the door. The second he opened it junk came cascading out, but he seemed unaware of the empty rifle cases, ropes, tent poles, empty jars, and the mismatched items that tumbled out along with them. Scout watched as he shifted through the clutter until he pulled out a small black box about the size of a milk crate. Scout had only seen this box a handful of times and it made his stomach flutter.

Quickly, and with a smirk, Sniper opened the box, careful not to allow Scout to see the contents. He grabbed what he was looking for and shut the lid before the boy could even peek over his shoulder. 

“How come you nev-” Scout was cut off by a bundle of fabric thrown into his face. “Nope. Not wearing this.”

“You’re right,” Sniper said, full of understanding. “Can’t let you wear just that.”

Back into the box he went and out came an assortment of other items, some of which were placed on the table, one of which stayed in Sniper’s hand. Scout frowned seeing it. 

“I’m not wearing those either.”

“You did last time,” Sniper countered.

Scout crossed his arms. "Cause you made me."

Sniper grinned, locked his box back up and took a seat at the small table. He spread the panties out next to the other toys. They were pink and frilly, with two big bows adorning the hips. “Mate, you and I both know I don’t make you do anything.”

Scout swallowed, fingers rubbing against the costume in his hands. He looked to the panties remembering the last time he wore them, remembering the deep shame he felt, and the pleasure. He remembered all the things Sniper said, desperately wanting to hear more and more, craving his insults over touches. 

“They don’t even fit, there’s no room for my massive cock in those,” Scout complained. 

Sniper shrugged, “The apron will cover it.”

“I’m not wearing it,” Scout said.

“Still gotta clean that mess,” Sniper pointed out.

“And I will, but not in a friggin’ maid costume and not in girl’s panties.”

Sniper finally stood up, towering over Scout but not touching him. “My van, my rules.”

Scout willfully stared back. He could feel dominance radiating off Sniper, his stance, his glare, the slight quirk in his lips. If he wanted he could be dominant too, to look back with an air control and confidence, knowing that he could call the shots. If he wanted. 

Slowly, and trying not to blush, Scout did as he wanted. He acted as if he were put upon, as if he had to do this. Undressing with plenty of huffs and eye rolls, muttering about pervy old men. He squeezed into the pink panties, relishing in how the tight elastic band dug into his hips. Next came the costume, hardly anything. It was one scrap of fabric, just the apron but it had a bra attached, two lacy cups meeting a bow in the middle. The apron was smooth black silk outlined in more white, lacy ruffles. It stayed together with a sloppy bow Scout tied quickly, as if he were annoyed.

To top it off, a little headband with a bit of lace attached to it perched on his noggin. He posed, not to show off his costume but to show off his distaste, hands on his hips, frown on his face. 

“Well?” He asked impatiently while Sniper gazed hungrily at him. 

The marksman frowned right back at him. “I was wrong.”

Scout hid his disappointment with a “Told you so.”

“Yeah, it’s not…” Sniper reached forward and grabbed at the hem of the apron trying to pull it lower. “It doesn’t hide your cock at all.”

It didn’t, the costume that was meant for a woman was far too short for the Scout. The hem ended at the very tops of his thighs allowing both the panties and his cock to peek out underneath, a tantalizing treasure just waiting to be seized.

“Still missing something,” Sniper muttered to himself. 

“Dignity,” Scout shot back.

“Nah, lipstick.”

“No way!” Scout jumped back. “Not-uh, I’m in this get up and that’s enough, ain’t no way you’re putting makeup on me.”

“Don’t be silly,” Sniper replied looking through the items he had pulled out earlier, “you’ll put it on yourself.”

Scout balked as the little golden tube was held out to him, but just as before Sniper did not push him. He merely waited for the runner to come to his own conclusions, delighting in how much quicker Scout succumbed to his desires. He nodded to the toaster behind them on the kitchen counter, watching with a smile as Scout applied the lipstick in its reflection.

Sniper grimaced, “Red’s not your color.”

“Well next time get me pink,” Scout snapped.

Sniper closed the gap between them, a hand snaking around to press Scout against him, lowered his forehead to his. “I’ll remember that, love. Now get to work.”

Sniper stepped aside allowing Scout more than enough space to clean up his mess. With a pout he dropped to his knees, pushing his discarded clothes to the side and began to pick at the crumbs on the floor. He sat back on his heels, “You don’t got a dustpan in that rat’s nest you call a closet?”

Sniper had taken a seat on his bed, a perfect view of the show. “Nope, you can lick ‘em up if you want.”

Scout scowled and picked up another crumb, choosing to use the ripped bag for collection. 

“Uh-uh,” Sniper interrupted. “Not like that.”

Scout sat back again and sighed, “What?”

Sniper curled a finger, “Start down here, I wanna see your ass wiggling.”

“Seriously.” Scout griped, but he stood up and stepped over the mess to reposition himself, or more accurately, his ass, perfectly in Sniper’s view. With one last glare at the Australian, he turned his back on him and faced the task before him. 

It was slow going, both of them had been standing over the chips for some time, their shoes breaking them into smaller bits and mashing them deep into the fibers. He’d have to really pick at a crumb to get a hold of it and pull it off a stringy bit of carpet only to return to the same spot where a dozen more crumbs lay. 

“That’s right, boy, you clean up every little bit.”

Scout ignored him, trying to figure out which tactic would end his suffering sooner. And then, actively going against it, instead of picking up all the larger chips first and making it seem clean, he focused on all the tiny crumbs. He justified this decision by telling himself that Sniper would notice if he cheated, despite the obvious filth that lined every nook and cranny of his camper. 

Soon enough Scout became aware of a few feelings. His knees started to hurt, not from the position but from the rough carpet being pressed into his skin, the beginnings of rug burn. He kept having to pull at the waistband of the panties, it was digging in so deep that it was chafing. The headband was squeezing against his head, too small to fit comfortably, but top heavy from the lace, constantly dipping forward and threatening to fall off. 

Lastly, Scout felt eyes on him, Sniper’s sharp eyes analyzing his every move. In many ways his gazing did more to Scout than his words. For every stretch of silence Scout was left worrying what could be going through the Australian’s mind, what filthy desires, what obscene acts he wanted Scout to perform next, what he truly thought of Scout. 

He tried to remain as willful as possible, never for a second letting Sniper think he enjoyed these humiliating games. He was muttering to himself, whining about his conditions, constantly picking at the costume trying to convey that he was uncomfortable because of the material and not the idea of how shameful it was to be in drag. 

“Fuckin’ doesn’t even have a dust pan….probably doesn’t own a toothbrush.” 

“Try saying that again in a French accent, love,” Sniper laughed. 

Scout huffed and looked over his shoulder readying a reply, but the words got caught in his mouth. Sniper was still on his bed, legs spread wide the way he usually sat, but his pants were undone and his hand was lost beneath. 

Scout hurriedly turned back, hoping his surprise was not seen. A hot blush crept over his face and he chalked it up to the stuffy van. 

“That’s quite the show you’re putting on,” Sniper commented. 

Scout dared not turn around. He spat out, “Thank god it’s almost over.”

“Mmm, not talking about that, talking about this little reluctance show you’re putting on.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Scout muttered, picking up another greasy crumb.

“All this huffing and puffing as if you don’t love every second of if.”

“I don’t,” Scout said.

“Sure,” Sniper agreed but his tone said otherwise. “You hate that little get up, and you hate being on your hands and knees.”

Each word felt like a pinch, not quite a death blow but annoying enough to garner his attention. Instead of picking up more crumbs he found himself angrily grinding them further into the carpet. 

“I do.”

“Yeah, and you hate those little panties.”

“I do.”

“And you hate- pick that back up!” Sniper suddenly ordered. Scout’s hand flew to place the headband back in its rightful place and Sniper’s face split into a sly grin, “But you don’t hate being told what to do.”

Indignant, Scout snapped up, the skin on his knees stinging at the sudden change. “Yes I do!” He retaliated, throwing a meager handful of crumbs back to the floor. 

Like before, Sniper didn’t say a word, but rather allowed Scout to lead the scene. He let him ramble, watching his face flush as red and the lipstick he wore, watching him slowly undo himself. 

“Yeah I do hate this! I hate all your dumb games and these stupid roles and that freakin’ box full of bullshit torture devices,” Scout was like a broken fire hydrant, words spilling out faster than he could think of them, “I hate having to follow orders and ask for…for…you know what! We're just supposed to fuck, it’s not supposed to be…to be…And I hate that dumb look on your face! Like you won!”

Sniper’s grin did not falter for a second, nor did his hand. “Won? Oh, what did I win?”

Scout suddenly fell silent, angry he let his emotions rule him. “You’re gonna laugh.”

“And would that make your cock hard if I did?”

Scout froze, he felt as if all the air in him were sucker punched out. Sniper had yet to be this direct with him, he always lead him places, to restraints, to begging, to calling him ‘sir.’ He made it easy.

“Would that make you feel ashamed? If I took one look at you and laughed?” Sniper continued, his voice thick while his hand still worked at his cock. 

Scout swallowed, still afraid to answer.

“Do those clothes humiliate you? Big loud Scout in little pink panties.” Sniper inhaled sharply as he finally took his cock out of his pants. 

Quietly, Scout replied, “Yes.”

“But you love it, you crave that humiliation?” 

They both knew it was a statement, but Sniper asked it anyways. He wanted Scout to finally admit to it. If Sniper were honest it wasn’t for any kind of special moment, he wasn’t seeking unquestioned trust or commitment. Honestly, he was sick and tired of doing all the work, of having to push Scout to the edge over and over only for him to backtrack. It was tiring work to chip away at an ego that big. 

The runner didn’t know how to answer, he didn’t want to answer but he did want all the devious things that would follow an answer. He went back to his knees, intent on finishing the job, ripping that ridiculous outfit off and getting the hell out of here. But once he was back on the floor, facing Sniper, he found he couldn’t look away. 

Slowly, Scout stalked forward on hands and knees, eyes never leaving Sniper’s cock. The closer he got the more praise Sniper would give him, “good boy,” and, “that’s it,” and, “look at you.” 

Scout would not prefer to look at himself right now. Not like this, not dressed like a cheap whore with cheaper lipstick on, not in panties so tight that it felt like his cock would burst out, and not knowing how badly he loved every second of it. 

The second Scout’s mouth got within favorable distance of Sniper’s cock he was stopped. He was rewarded with a boot pushing his head down toward the floor, seemingly not a reward, but to Scout it was exactly what he wanted. 

“You think I'm gonna let some filthy little maid come anywhere near my dick?” Sniper ground out both his words and Scout’s face against the carpet.

Scout thought quickly. “But I need to clean it.”

He couldn’t look up, not with Sniper’s boot keeping his face pressed against the floor, but he heard a little chuckle and that was enough of an answer for him. He was allowed up, he was allowed to get close, and he was allowed to take Sniper into his mouth. 

Sniper let out a deep sigh, hands immediately grabbing hold of Scout’s head knocking the headband out of the way. He continued to praise Scout throughout the blowjob, rewarding him just the way he wanted. 

“You’re pathetic, all it took was some lipstick and you were ready to do anything.”

Scout tongued at the underside of Sniper’s cock.

“You’re lucky this happened in the privacy of my van, else you’d have gone through the whole defense squad by now. Even Heavy’s cock wouldn’t be enough for you.”

His pace quickened, those degrading words encouraging him to act the part. 

“You strut around like some cocky rooster but you crack without a fight.”

He dared to take more into his mouth, Sniper’s hands gripping his hair and urging him to do so. 

“Bet if anyone else saw you like this, all their laughing and insults, you’d eat it up, you’d probably cream those little panties before Spy even got to take one picture.”

The hands on Scout’s head dug in deep, holding him perfectly still while Sniper shuddered through his orgasm. Cum hit Scout’s tongue and he eagerly swallowed, obediently sucking until Sniper pushed him off. 

After it was over, Scout sat back on his heels feeling embarrassment and shame. Before he could stew on it a hand grabbed his chin and forced his eyes upward. 

“You see this?” Sniper was pointing at his soft cock. “You see the mess you made? Again?”

Scout followed his pointing finger to the ring of red lipstick around the base of his dick. Scout reached up a hand to touch his lips, feeling a greasy smear from the corner of his mouth to his chin. 

“Some maid you are,” Sniper chided while standing up and walking over to the table where many items were still laid out. “I’m gonna have to teach you a lesson.”

**Author's Note:**

> Can you guess the items on the table?  
> Submit answers to: [ello-meno-p](http://ello-meno-p.tumblr.com/)


End file.
